


Midnight Sun

by thescroller



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cowboy!Dean, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean Winchester x You - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Smut, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Western, dean winchester x reader - Freeform, dean winchester x y/n - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:25:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19384942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescroller/pseuds/thescroller
Summary: Swearing off everything Morning Ranch had to offer when you graduated high school, you ran off to Boston in the hopes of making a name for yourself. Then the news came of your father’s illness, it forces you to come back home to the shambles of your childhood.Upon your arrival, you are very aware that things are just how you left them, with the exception of a new ranch hand; Dean Winchester. Dean seems to be a little too grateful for a job mucking horse shit, that it makes you question just what his motive is.Despite all odds, the two of you form an unlikely friendship, built on rough pasts and even darker secrets. Sometimes the things we run from bring us exactly where we need to be.





	1. Summary;

_Swearing off everything Morning Ranch had to offer when you graduated high school, you ran off to Boston in the hopes of making a name for yourself. Then the news came of your father’s illness, it forces you to come back home to the shambles of your childhood._

_ Upon your arrival, you are very aware that things are just how you left them, with the exception of a new ranch hand; Dean Winchester. Dean seems to be a little too grateful for a job mucking horse shit, that it makes you question just what his motive is.  _

_Despite all odds, the two of you form an unlikely friendship, built on rough pasts and even darker secrets. Sometimes the things we run from bring us exactly where we need to be._  


	2. 1;

**Chapter One**

You had been parked in the car for a solid twenty minutes now, trying to find the courage to grab your luggage from the back seat and make your way inside. With every minute that the little digital clock moved, you felt the anxiety of being back in Morning settle deeper into the pit of your stomach.

And the fact that you had to face your father was another major contributing factor.

“Come on,” you whispered to no one while taking a deep breath and turning to grab the handle on your heavy suitcase. “It’s just for the summer.”

That was your reasoning behind all of this. It was just for the summer; just like when school would let out and you’d have to convince your parents to let you stay up until way after midnight or that ice cream was an acceptable meal on days that felt like you were living on the crust of the sun.

It was just for the summer.

One final mini pep talk to your reflection and three deep breaths later, you had stepped out of the car and made your way to the familiar front porch. The whole house looked like it was in desperate need of a paint job, maybe you could find someone to do that while you were visiting, but a smile made its way while you eyed Dad’s favorite rocking chair with his coffee mug still resting next to it; most likely from his morning brew. You stood in front of the door debating now if you should just walk right in or knock. Deciding that it had been over ten years since the last time you had been home, knocking seemed the more logical choice.

Counting to five, you waited as you heard faint footsteps come from somewhere in the back of the house. It was another couple seconds before a tan-skinned woman stole a glance at you through the door window with a raised eyebrow followed by the door creaking open. “Can I help you?”

Giving her a small smile, you nodded your head in the direction behind her. “I’m Y/N, William’s daughter.”

“Oh!” The door flew open and her arms wrapped around you suddenly, causing you to stiffen up in her grasp. “You look nothing like I imagined,” she mumbled in the top of your shoulder, making the cotton of your t-shirt a little too warm for your liking, she held you like you were an old friend. When she finally released you and took a step back, she admired you from head to toe with a shake of her head. “Please, please, come in.”

“Thank you,” you muttered softly still not too sure who this woman was in your father’s house, but followed her through the hall scattered with photos of your childhood. You didn’t have to look to know that Dad still had that picture up, the one that where everything looked perfectly normal and happy - you knew if you saw it, you’d do the unthinkable.

“I’m Angela,” the woman said, her voice echoing off the walls of the quiet house. “I’m the nurse who’s been taking care of your father.”

Duh. You didn’t know why that didn’t hit you sooner. “I’m so sorry,” you said, looking at her a little differently now. “I should have known it was you after our phone call.”

Nonetheless, the tan woman gave you a genuine smile causing the corners of her eyes to crinkle up. “No worries darlin’. I’m not the most memorable person around,” she said with a small wink. “You’ll be sick of me by the time you leave.”

“Something tells me that won’t be the case,” you said softly, seeing the door that led to your father's bedroom slide into view. You paused your steps, placing your bag on the ground next your feet before looking over at Angela. “How’s he doing?”

Her look softened a bit as she followed where your eyes had wondered. “Some days are better than others.”

“The farm?”

“It could be worse.”

You nodded your head eyeing the barrier keeping you from your old man. “Do you think he remembers me?”

“Oh darlin’,” her voice was like honey as her hand snaked forward and wrapped around your shoulder securely. “He asks about you every day.”

You knew the words were supposed to comfort you, but instead, they cause you to take a step back. “I don’t know if I can do this right now.”

Angela’s hand gave a knowing squeeze as she nodded once more. “How about you go upstairs and get yourself situated and then we can bring him some dinner?”

The woman next to you didn’t have to ask twice before she excused herself and made her way through the one area you were terrified to enter. You watched as she slipped through the door, a cheery ‘good afternoon’ from her lips while you picked up your bag and made your way up the stairs to the closed-off area above the garage. It was harder than you imagined to avoid everything that the house was throwing at you right now, all the memories came screaming back with such a force - it had tears threatening to spill over as you locked the door behind you.

With your eyes closed, you counted to ten and repeated just what you told yourself in the car. “It’s just for the summer.”

Those words seemed to comfort you more than you wanted to admit, but you opened your eyes and got a good look at your surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel more defeated. The massive room above the garage had been turned into an apartment, completed with a full sized bathroom and a kitchen with just enough space for the essentials and a two-seater bar area, complete with side-by-side stools. There was even a cabinet filled with some high-class whiskey just above the fridge.

It was exactly what you would have wanted if you had stayed.

“Oh, Dad,” you choked out, feeling that guilt really settle into your chest now.

\--

A twenty-minute shower, three outfit changes and possibly a shot or two of some of that whiskey and you slowly made your way back down those stairs with your eyes cast down. Literally, you were going to have to take these next three months one step at a time.

Walking into the kitchen, you caught Angela at the table with the newspaper splayed out before her. At the sound of your steps, she looked over at you, a comforting smile brightening her face. “Feeling better?”

“I might actually feel worse,” you admitted, crossing your arms across your chest as you leaned against the counter and looked over at her. “But I do feel more prepared to see him.”

Her smile faltered a bit, but the sympathy in her eyes remained steady. “I’m sorry darlin’, William just went down for a little nap, I doubt he’ll be up until it’s time for dinner.”

“Oh.”

Her warm brown eyes scanned you from head to toe like she was probably trying to piece together the pictures of your childhood and the woman who was standing before her now. “You’re welcome to join me for some sweet tea.”

Just now realizing the large glass of golden liquid before her, a smile broke out. “Is that Dad’s famous sweet tea?”

“It’s the only kind he’ll drink.”

“Well,” you mused, turning around to find a glass of your own, not even bothering with ice seeing at the pitcher waiting on the counter on behind Angela sweltering in the hot Kanas air. “You’ll never drink another kind of tea out there after having his.”

She turned to reach behind her for the pitcher and placed it before her as an invitation for you to take the open chair across from her. “I’ve been drinking this for six months now, I don’t think I’ll be changing that anytime soon.”

Pouring yourself some of the liquid gold, you thought about her words, trying not to read too much into them, but unable to resist your question. “How much longer do you think he has?”

“I can’t really answer that question for you,” her voice was soft and somber, solidifying exactly where your thoughts were going. “All I can suggest for you is to make the most of your time here sweetheart.”

“I can’t make that promise.”

You heard her sharp inhale of breath, not quite sure if it was out of the harsh reality of your honest words or because she was frustrated with your lack of empathy towards this situation. Waiting to see if she would say anything, you glanced outside to where the stable was and took a long sip of the sugary drink. Someone was working in the stable, you could see a silhouette moving about, but couldn’t quite make out much else.

A warm hand came into contact with the one that you had resting on the table. “Why don’t you go get some air, maybe read a book and collect your thoughts before dinner in two hours?”

“Does it really seem like I need that?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she answered. “I think you just really need to clear your head and remember that your dad isn’t the same man he was when you left.”

Watching as she left the room, her newspaper and glass of tea in hand, her words seeped into the very real internal wounds you were harboring against this place. Deciding that she was probably right that you needed to get out of the house for a bit and clear your mind, you grabbed up your tea and your smartphone and headed back out to the front porch.

The sticky Texan air was not what you were used to during this time of year - New England always had a slight breeze to it. Even though your chest was trying to get used to the heaviness in the air, you took a mediating breath in an effort to get used to the smells around you again. Stealing a glance over at Dad’s rocking chair, you decided that it didn’t look like it had been getting much used these days, so you felt the need to give the old thing a little attention.

The worn wood of the seat cause you to slide back quicker than expected, a startled giggle escaping in the process as a splash of tea landed on your clean white shirt proving the point that all your changing had been useless.

“Goddammit,” a deep voice rumbled off to your right somewhere just behind where you couldn’t see anymore, starling you even more to the point of dropping your glass at your feet.

You groaned, the puddle spreading with the seconds that passed. “Seriously.”

There was a silence that followed, even though your heart was pounding in your ears. You waited for a beat before standing up, picking up the, thankfully, unbroken glass and placing it on the table next to Dad’s coffee mug then leaned over the railing and poking your head around the corner to where the unfamiliar voice seemed to come from.

A man in dirty jeans, cowboy boots, and a plain white t-shirt that was hugging at the biceps of his arms, seemed to be scanning the ground surrounding him for something. You eyed him carefully, assuming it was probably some of the hired help, you called out towards him. “Excuse me, do you need help with something?”

He didn’t look up, keeping his eyes focused on the dirt before him he waved a hand up towards you. “Um, yeah, yeah, I lost a nail.”

A smirk formed as you hopped up and over the railing to meet him where he was standing before crossing your arms. “Farm work too much for you that you lose your nails all the time?”

“What the hell are you-” he paused, shaking his head he looked up from his search and met your smirk with a heavy glare. “Really? You think I’m talking a fake nail?”

“You didn’t specify,” you gave him a shrug.

“And the fact that I’m holding a hammer didn’t give away the kind of nail that I was looking for?”

To be quite honest, his arms had been more distracting than what he was holding. But you weren’t about to tell him that. “I couldn’t see what you were holding.”

The two of you took a moment to look over one another, which was obvious in the way that his vibrant green eyes scanned your face. This was not someone that had been working here before you left, nor had it been someone had been pictured in the ranch’s Christmas card that your dad always insisted on sending you every year. The man before you was someone you knew nothing of.

“Who’re you?” He asked, crossing his arms to match your stance; the hammer in his hand dangling by the tips of his fingers.

“I should really be asking you the same.”

His free hand extended towards you while a slight grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “Winchester, Dean Winchester.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback makes my world go round.


	3. 2;

**Chapter Two**

“Are you also an international spy?” You asked at his odd way of introducing himself, no longer fighting the grin that was taking over. “Or does Winchester mean something to everyone else around here?”

The look he was giving you was like he was trying to pinpoint if he knew you from somewhere. He didn’t say anything while he just scanned you from head to toe. Under any other circumstance, you probably would have given a shit at his the lingering gaze, but you knew in your gut for the next two weeks, tops, you’d be getting this kind of attention for a while.

After all, you were the daughter that left.

The silence was a little too much as your thoughts circled. Reaching out a manicured hand to the man before you, you gave him a slight nod, trying to keep your smile in place. “Well, Dean Winchester, I’m Y/N.”

Realization must have just hit him like a ton of bricks as his mouth fell open. “No way,” he said a little too excitedly to your liking. He took your hand in his much more calloused one and shook it enthusiastically. It was like meeting Angela all over again, only this was a man that was annoyingly gorgeous. “I knew you were coming this summer, but no one seemed to know when.”

“Ah, well, yeah,” you shrugged like you hadn’t battled with the decision for about a month before last-minute hoping in your car and finding your way back here. “I just decided I needed to get this over with.”

“Over with?”

“Nothing,” you answered with a wave of your free hand. “So, about that nail?”

“Oh yeah,” he laughed quietly to himself, bringing his attention back down to the dusty soil below his boots. “It’s just… your run of the mill nail,” he rubbed the back of his neck while squinting by the toe of his feet, “I was trying to fix this shingle that Miss Angela has been complaining about for weeks.”

You glanced down, only half-heartedly looking about for the slim piece of metal. “Have you been here long?”

“About,” he kicked a pile of dust up into the air carefully before giving a frustrated sigh, “six months or so.”

“Hm.”

There was a pause while he continued to aimlessly kick around enough dirt to cause you to get that tickle in your throat. “How long do you think you’ll stick around for?”

Even though you knew he was just asking to probably make some conversation while you were still awkwardly in the way of his work, the way it was phrased left a sour taste in your mouth. “I’m not sure yet.”

You caught the way his green eyes glanced up at you, making you a bit more aware of how clipped your tone was. “Well, if it helps,” he stood up straight, taking you head-on with his gaze and crossing his arms once more. “I’m not usually hanging around the house - I do mostly work in the barn.”

“This helps me how?”

Dean shrugged, reaching in his back pocket now, producing what looked like just what he had been searching for, to begin with. “If you ever want to take a horse out or something.”

“Or something?” You asked, shifting on your heels while now adverting his lingering look.

The man didn’t answer, instead, he turned and raised his shoulder in a shrug before beginning to align the little nail that was supposedly lost with the splintered wood hanging off the side of the main house. You watched patiently while he hammered, one, two, three times before stepping back and admiring his work.

It was almost as if he had forgotten that you were still standing there, watching him intently when you should have been minding your own business on the front porch with Dad’s sweet tea and your daunting thoughts of the future - and yet, here you were. Dean didn’t seem to mind, he finished up his task quickly before gathering what he could carry in his palms and turning towards where you still stood, a knowing look passing over his features.

“Just anything, we all come here running from something,” he took one single step backward before giving you a view of his broad shoulder through that dangerously thin white t-shirt of his. “You’ll know where to find me.”

It took everything in your power to not groan in frustration as you turned on your heel and made your way back towards the porch to deal with the mess that a certain someone had caused to begin with. If this was a painted picture of how the rest of your visit was going to be, you were sure that the whiskey cabinet in your temporary apartment would be getting all kinds of love in the weeks to follow.

You spent the rest of the day trying to get your lungs used to the overly humid southern air while checking in with a couple of your girlfriends back home. Everyone seemed to agree that it was a good idea that you came back home to be with your father, but it didn’t actually make you feel better. In another effort to keep your thoughts busy until it was time to help with dinner, you decided to check your work e-mail to make sure that patients were being seen by the appropriate people as well as seeing if any of your co-workers had work-related questions, knowing fully well that there was bound to be at least two from one person you were trying to get away from, to begin with.

_Y/N,_

_I sincerely hope you have a safe trip. I really need to speak with you when you have a chance, I know we didn’t leave things on great terms when we last spoke, but I think I can make it up to you._

_Hope all is well,_   
_Dr. Haider._

The eye roll was so strong, you were sure that you could have caught a glimpse of the back of your skull. Pure annoyance and anger surged its way through you as you reread the email several more times before deciding that you’d have to limit anything work-related to whenever you felt like it was really necessary. Depending on if you actually stayed put for the summer, it would probably be wise to make it a weekly thing and if there was an absolute emergency, the nurses had your number and new the rule of sending out a 911 when it was needed.

It wasn’t like you wouldn’t have plenty of free time to kill.

“Miss,” Angela’s voice brought you back as she peaked her head around the torn screen door - just another project for you to handle on your stay. “Your father is awake.”

You stood, your heart pounding as you gave her a silent nod and made your way through the threshold and followed her back to where you could hear him shuffling about the room. “Do you think he’s ready to see me?”

Her kind smile reappeared. “He’s doing well right now,” she nodded towards the halfway cracked door. “This would be the best time to speak with him, I thought he’d be able to make it until dinner, but he’s been saying he’s really tired today.”

With a slow nod, you stood a little taller and walked towards the archway giving a slight knock on the door before peeking your own head through the sliver of an entrance. “Hey dad,” you spoke softly while pushing the door open carefully.

The man that was simply a slimmer, balding and grayer looking version of your father turned around at the sound of your voice. “Y/N?” He asked, his eyebrows creased in concern as he stared at you hard for what felt like minutes. “Is that really you?”

You could feel your heartbreak at his confusion like maybe he had imagined your walking through that same door time and time again that he had to question the reality of it before accepting that you were before him. Trying to ignore the way your chest squeezed, you stepped towards your father’s dwindling frame, giving him the biggest smile you could muster. “It’s me.”

The way his face contoured with pure happiness was like a kid seeing his gifts on Christmas morning as he shuffled his way over to where you were standing and wrapping his arms around you tightly. If it had been the man you had left behind all those years ago, this kind of hug would have knocked the wind right out of you, but instead, it was like getting a hug from your favorite teddy bear.

“Oh Shortcake, where have you been?” His voice rasped against your ear. “I’ve missed you so.”

The childhood nickname caused the reappearance of tears to prick at the corners of your eyes as you wrapped your arms around your dwindling father. “I’ve missed you too Dad.”

He let go of you and took a step back, looking you up and down with a wide smile on his face. “You’ve grown so much,” he stated with a laugh before stepping back, still keeping his hand on your forearm. “You’ve lost that sunkissed look though.”

You managed to choke out a small laugh. “That’s what happens when you spend all day in a hospital.”

“Is that what you are doing these days?”

He gripped your arm as he led you back over to his bed, sitting on the edge while he waved a hand at the empty armchair for you to take a seat. “It’s what I’ve been doing for a while now,” you answered, watching as he laid himself back in bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin. “I love my job, for the most part.”

“What’s there not to like?” He asked with a knowing look in your direction and a slow blink of his eyes. “Other than having to deal with cold old farts like myself.”

Only your father would call himself an old fart in an effort to make your smile, but you’d be damned if it didn’t work how he hoped. With a light laugh, you shook your head at your father’s sense of self-deprecating humor, “It’s not that. I work in the billing department, so I’m basically behind a desk four days a week and then I get to follow-up with doctors and any patients that need help figuring out insurance issues.”

Dad nodded along as his eyes slowly closed like he was trying to fight off more sleep. “Sounds like it’s so much fun.”

The sarcasm was not missed in his tone. “It’s really the people I work with that have been driving me up the wall these last few months.”

“Uh-huh.”

He was fading out, but the word vomit just kept coming up. “There’s this doctor that works there,” you sighed, already feeling ridiculous. “He, well, he’s interested in me, but he’s dealing with previous relationship issues. We went on a couple of dates, he’s nice enough, very polite, but I recently found out he was also dating one of the other nurses and it just didn’t sit right with me.”

Even though you had just rambled the last three months of your life out into the open, you weren’t even the slightest surprise that your dad had dozed off into another nap. His hand was still resting on your arm, solidifying your decision to stay rooted in your chair.

Carefully, you reached into the nightstand and found a worn-down copy of The Great Gatsby, knowing your father’s love for the book, you picked it up and began softly reading it aloud - much like he used to do for you when you were a child. Something about being read to sleep by your father was the most relaxing sensation in the world to you, even beat the sounds of the ocean or rain bounding off the roof didn’t compare to the Southern twang of his velvety voice.

Beginning to start the third chapter, your father suddenly sat up with a slow blink and looked around the room carefully before his gaze zeroed in on you again. He looked at you, at his hand and the book you had been quietly reading to his sleeping frame.

“Y/N, is that really you?”

\---

His question bounced around in your mind while you helped Angela prep the dinner table. You had asked her if you needed to go and grab dad, but she said that he would most likely be too tired to sit down at the table with everyone. Lately, all he wanted to do was have a snack, have a cup of coffee and then head back to sleep - his naps would range from just half an hour to several according to his nurse.

“Who else comes to dinner these nights?” You asked, curious, but remembered that a lot of the workers were encouraged to stick around and enjoy a free meal. “I didn’t know that it was still a thing for others to stick around at the end of the day.”

Angela stirred the pot of chili on the stove once more while looking at the spice rack hanging above the oven. “These days it’s just usually me and that Winchester boy.”

“Hm,” you answered, placing the last bowl down on the table, before reaching for the handful of silverware that you had grabbed. “What do you think of him?”

You didn’t have to be looking at her to know that she was giving you that look that all parents give their daughters as a warning when asking about new men. “I think he’s a great boy, keeps to himself a bit, but he gets work done. He’s always on time to get the day started and most days he goes back to work after eating with me.”

Heavy footsteps made their way up the front porch before you heard the screech of the screen door being pulled open. Even though you had just met the man a couple of hours ago, you could already tell that there was a presence about him.

“Evening ladies,” he said gruffly, giving the two of you a nod before taking his seat at the table. “Tell me you made that pot nice and spicy for me, Ang.”

“I know you’ll eat it no other way,” she grinned at him. “Bring me your bowl.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You watched carefully, grabbing up your own dish and standing behind the tall man listening to his banter back and forth with ‘Ang’ as he called her. The behavior between the two of them showed that they had clearly spent a decent amount of time with one another - once again, making you feel guilty for not being around nearly as much.

Once everyone had a nice hearty bowl in front of them and more tea in their tall glasses did the shuffle of the day settle down enough for you to really feel the calm that the ranch always seemed to offer. As a child, you always remembered things being way too chaotic to ever relax but sitting here in the lull of the kitchen, you knew it was more what was happening in the main house that made you feel like you were always suffocating.

Dean took a massive spoonful of the stew, blowing the hot air out of his mouth as he spoke quickly. “How’s William doing today?”

Angela started to open her mouth before pausing and looking over at you with a tilt of her head. “He’s been sleeping a lot today, but Y/N got to spend about an hour with him.”

Those green eyes widened a bit in surprise as he looked over at you. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyeing the smog of steam coming up from your plate. “We only spoke for a bit before he felt the need to take a nap. And then,” you felt your throat constrict a bit at the same emotion you felt earlier, “I had to refresh his memory that I was here, again.”

The surprise in Dean’s eyes softened a bit as he gave a slow nod before he glanced back down at the spoonful of chili he was holding mid-air. “One thing I’ve learned, you just have to take in one day at a time.”

“You’ve learned?” You inquired.

He gave you a shrug, something you kind of got the feeling that he did a lot around here. “I’m a man with a lot of experience.”

“That sounds like a personal problem.”

He grinned over at you, those green eyes searching your own once more while you knew he was trying to think of a response. Even though your own flesh and blood had a hard time remembering just who you were, something in the way that man was looking at you was making you feel like you were just where you needed to be.

\-- 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback makes my heart happy. <3


End file.
